


...some girls wander by mistake

by RecoveringTheSatellites



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Don't copy to another site, F/M, Lost!Emma, a little darkness and a lot of happy end, not-on-my-watch!Killian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-16
Updated: 2019-11-16
Packaged: 2021-01-13 10:43:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21242795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RecoveringTheSatellites/pseuds/RecoveringTheSatellites
Summary: Emma is a lost soul who keeps trying to drown her sorrows.Killian is a small town cop who is getting tired of watching her downward spiral.A little bit of darkness with a massive happy end.*





	...some girls wander by mistake

**Author's Note:**

  * For [profdanglais](https://archiveofourown.org/users/profdanglais/gifts).

> Happy, happy birthday my dear. You are amazing. 
> 
> And thank you devviepuu (@ohmightydevviepuu) for taking up the beta-duties without flinching and with incredible aplomb. You are awesome.
> 
> Fic title shamelessly stolen from a Sisters Of Mercy album.

She wakes up with her face pressed down on a pillow that’s not hers, on a mattress that’s not hers, so thin she can feel metal through it.

Fuck.

Her head is killing her as she slowly sits up.

“What happened?” She croaks through a curtain of hair. Dirty hair, tangled, hanging in front of her face.

A bottle of water is pressed into her hand, and she spends a few grateful moments drinking.

Then she pushes her hair back. “No aspirin?”

He shakes a small bottle, and the sound nearly splits her head open. She closes her eyes and holds out her hand. Two pills are dropped into her palm, and she swallows them dry. It tastes awful.

She lets her pounding head sink back down until her chin nearly hits her chest. She can’t really open her eyes, yet.

“What did I do?”

The metal cot creaks beside her as another body sits down.

His voice is quiet. “You broke a tray of glasses. Incited a small fight. Put the fear of god into at least four tourists.”

“Fuck.” She groans for good measure.

“Yep.”

She opens her eyes, squints at the brightness of the holding cell. “Sorry.”

He sighs. “Swan, you can’t go on like this.” His eyes are full of empathy. It sets her teeth on edge.

“Save it, Jones,” she grinds out past the pain. “Please save the lecture.”

“Someone has to try and talk some sense into you.”

She rolls her eyes. And groans again, because  _ fuck _ that hurts.

“Am I free to go?”

He sighs again. It sounds defeated. “If you promise to go see Leroy and pay for the damages.”

“Done.” She gets up slowly and carefully and waits a few seconds for the room to stop spinning.

A hand catches her arm. “Swan.” His voice is low, and urgent. “Swan, you have to---”

She yanks it out of his grip. “I don’t have to do anything,” she hisses, without turning around. “Except go pay a bill.”

Then she stalks out of the open door of the holding cell, and out of the building into the bright morning sunshine. She hates summer with every fiber of her being, and spends the whole walk to the bar wishing for the fall rains to come.   
  


  
  
  


They’ve been doing this dance since she showed up in his town months ago.

It is a dance of destruction.

Diving down a bottle until she hits the bottom and then swimming back up inside a holding cell. Not remembering what comes in between.

And looking at his concerned blue eyes when she wakes up at the station. Cutting him off every time he tries to say something. Every time he tries to be kind.

They’ll be doing this dance until her money runs out.

That is her plan. The money is hush money, keep-her-quiet-money; it’s ugly and tainted and filthy with guilt.

It cannot fix what is broken inside her.

But it can cushion her downward spiral.

  
  
  


-/-

  
  
  


An afternoon several weeks later finds her at the end of one of the piers, sitting leaned back against a pillar, her feet dangling above the water.

It’s fall now, and the weather is still beautiful, but no longer so hot, and she’s been good for such a long time.

It’s peaceful out here, since the tourist season wound down, and she loves looking at the endless horizon. Alternating coffee and vodka for the first time in weeks.

She really has been good long enough.

A shadow falls across her face, and she squints up as he sits down beside her. The police shield catches a stray sunbeam and blinds her for a moment. What a great reminder.

She turns away to look back at the ocean. “Are you here to arrest me?”

She can feel him shake his head next to her. “Are you drinking in a public place?”

She holds up the bottle and the paper bag that surrounds it. “I believe this is regulation.”

“Then I’m not here to arrest you.”

He doesn’t say anything else, but the weight of his stare makes it hard to lift the vodka. So they sit in silence while she drinks her coffee.

“Swan,” he finally says, and she turns to look at him.

“Am I disturbing the peace?”

“No.” He sighs. It seems like all he does around her is sigh.

“Am I creating a public nuisance?”

“No.”

“Am I doing something illegal?”

He shakes his head no.

“Then you are hereby invited to leave me the fuck alone.” He flinches at that, and she is sorry for a moment. He is trying to help her.

But she is beyond help. All she wants is to fade into oblivion in peace and quiet and he’s making it hard.

“Please spend your energy on someone who cares.”

He gets up and his voice sounds defeated again. “You should care.”

She looks back out across the water. “Yeah, well, I don’t.”

  
  
  


-/-

  
  
  


She likes the pier. Especially now that the weather has finally turned cold, and the sun is no longer out to get her. The night is clear, and she listens to the waves, and she has long foregone the coffee beside her. She wraps her jacket more tightly around her, but more than that, the contents of her bottle are keeping her warm.

It’s so beautiful out here, now that she’s numb.

She slides down the pillar until she can feel the wooden boards of the pier on her cheek, and she can’t help but smile as her eyes slowly fall closed.

Maybe this will be the night she won’t wake up.

It’s high time, after all.

  
  
  


But she does wake up. Wakes up on something soft and warm and gently rocking. The rocking is awful.

She sits up abruptly and the room starts to spin and she feels a bucket being pressed into her hands just as her stomach starts to revolt.

She throws up for a while.

When she’s finally done, his voice says, “Here”, and the bucket is replaced with a bottle of water. She rinses and spits into the same bucket and then hears the telltale rattle of Aspirin pills against plastic. She smiles a painful smile and holds out her hand.

Feels two tablets being put in her palm and then hears him leave the room.

She forces her eyes to open a bit and tries to look around.

She’s in a cabin.

A ship’s cabin.

That accounts for the rocking.

There’s a table bolted to the wall across from her, and chairs in front of it, and she’s lying in a bed. An honest to god bed, with a mattress and pillows and clean sheets that smell nice.

What the fuck.

The door opens and he comes back in, holding the bucket, which is clean now, and empty. He pulls up a chair and sits down across from her.

“I think it’s time we had a little talk.”

She groans. “Are we on the  _ ocean? _ ”

He nods.

“Did you fucking kidnap me?”

He smiles. “Technically, yes. But you were passed out and about to fall off the pier, so technically I also saved your life.”

She puts both her hands to her aching head, willing her roiling stomach to quiet. “That buys you nothing,” she spits. “Take me back.”

“No.” His voice is calm and determined. “No, I don’t think so.”

“Take me back  _ right the fuck now  _ or I swear I’ll---” She jumps off the bed and goes down hard on her knees. It hurts like a bitch. Her legs feel like Jell-O.

He picks her up like she weighs nothing and puts her back on the bed.

“Stop it, Swan,” he says, and for the first time his voice sounds angry. “I’ve had enough of your theatrics.” He gently pushes her to lie down and covers her with the blanket. When he goes on his voice is quiet. “And I’ve had enough of watching you self-destruct.”

She can feel her eyes droop. God, she’s tired. Tired and nauseous. “What’s it to you?”

He pats her arm. “Apparently more than it is to you. Now go back to sleep. The bucket is beside you whenever you need it.”

He walks to the door.

Her scathing reply is swallowed by sleep.

  
  
  


-/-

  
  
  


The next time she wakes up is on another mattress. One that is no longer rocking.

She appears to be in a small cabin.

She’s warm and comfortable and feels so much better, even after she slowly sits up. The door opens and he walks in, carrying two duffel bags.

“You’re awake.” He smiles. It looks like he’s happy about it.

“Where the fuck am I?”

He smiles again, impervious to her venom. “Away from it all.”

She jumps up and this time her legs hold her fine. She shoulders past him, out the front door-- and stops in her tracks. There is nothing but heather and brush around her, and sand and ocean in front of her.

She feels him come up to stand beside her. “What is this?”

His voice is warm. “This is my cabin.”

“Are we on an  _ island? _ ”

He nods. “We are.”

“You own an island?”

He laughs out loud. “Of course not, Swan, don’t be ridiculous. I rent this cabin.”

“Where’s the next town?”

“There is no town. There are a few summer camps scattered around. But they’re deserted come the end of summer.” He looks pointedly at her. The look says,  _ it’s November and you know it. _

“We’re fucking  _ stranded _ here?” It’s outrageous.

“Not exactly.” He’s still smiling. “We do have my boat, in the slip over there. And I brought a lot of provisions.”

Rage bubbles up inside her, hot and fierce and all-consuming.

“Take me back.” She’s so angry, she can hardly get her voice to work. “Of all the fucked up things you’ve ever done to me, Jones, this is---” She grabs his shirt front with force. Her voice climbs in both pitch and volume. “TAKE ME BACK.  _ TAKE ME BACK RIGHT NOW. _ ”

He doesn’t move, just gently puts his hands on her fists, pulling at his t-shirt. “And what is it that I have done to you?”

“You fucking kidnapped me!”

He sighs. “Aye, that I did.”  _ I had to do something. _

There it is again, his fucking compassion. His urge to  _ help _ . Her anger ratchets up several notches.

“I’ll take you back if you really want me to,” he says, his voice quiet. “But answer me this first.” He points to the ocean and the shore of the mainland she can just make out on the horizon. “What exactly am I taking you back to?”

It takes the wind out of her sails all at once. She can feel herself deflate and she hates it. “None of your fucking business.”

“Seeing as you end up in my holding cell more often than not, I’d say it is some of my business.”

His hands squeeze hers and she pulls her fists from his shirt.

“Emma.” It’s the first time he has used her first name. Ever. It cuts through her anger like a scalpel through skin. “I don’t exactly know what I’m doing.” He hangs his head. “But you were going to kill yourself on my watch, and I had to do  _ something _ .”

“So you keep saying.” Her voice is a whisper.

So is his. “Yeah, well, it’s true.”

She closes her eyes and smells the salt of the ocean. Hears the seagulls. Then looks up into his worried blue eyes.

“What if there’s nothing  _ to _ do?” Her voice is still a whisper. “What if there’s nothing that can be fixed?”

He looks back at her, with earnest conviction. “I refuse to believe that.” His voice is warm and sure. “There is always hope. No matter what.”

She shakes her head. “You’re wasting your time.”

He smiles. “Am I.”

“Yes.” She shrugs. “But I’m also starving, so I hope you brought some food.”

  
  
  
  
  


\-----/-----

  
  
  
  
  


“What are you doing out here?” He sits down on the pier beside her and pulls her against him. “This can’t possibly be comfortable for you.”

She massages the side of her belly and nods. No. It’s not comfortable. But she wants to be here.

She has to be here.

“I had to come.” She leans up to kiss his jaw. “Today is exactly five years since you saved my life.”

He buries his nose in her neck. “I know.”

“Have you been counting it down every year?”

He smiles sheepishly at her, and she knows the answer is yes.

That’s all right, so has she. 

She looks at him and a part of her still can’t believe he stayed, through the days of vomit and trembling and shaking at the cabin, through the months of listening to her scream and cry and rail against the world, and the years of AA now, years of it.

It took her such a long time to believe in him. Such a long time to believe in herself. But now, five years later, with his son kicking inside her, it’s safe to say she finally does.

“I want to go to the cabin,” she says.

They have not been back since the first time he took her. She still insists he kidnapped her, but now she laughs when she says it. And then she thanks him again.

They have anniversaries to celebrate now. Anniversaries like their first real date and the years she has spent sober, like the first time he kissed her and she told him she loved him, like the day of their wedding and the day they bought their house and the night they both decided they were ready for a family.

But this day,  _ this day, _ is the one that matters to her. The day he plucked her off the pier unconscious, and instead of taking her back to the station, ran her out to his cabin, away from it all.

“Are you sure?” His hand comes down on her belly and starts rubbing it slowly.

“I’m sure.”

“Do you promise not to go into labor out there in the middle of nowhere?”

She grins and punches his arm. “I have three weeks left and you know it. And I really need to go.”

He kisses her, long and warm and slow, and then leans his forehead against hers. “Then we’ll go,” he whispers.

She closes her eyes. “You are too good to me.”

“No such thing,” he says, and she can feel his hand cup her cheek. “Your heart’s desire, Swan. I swear that’s all I ever wanted.”

“Good,” she whispers, and opens her eyes. “That’s good. Because my heart’s desire is you.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
